Prelude To Disaster
by bakasake
Summary: Hermione's life has been centered around two things: survival and appeasement. As she struggles to rebuild the present for herself, will her past destroy her future?
1. The Disaster

**2/18/2013 - **I have refueled my creative juices for this story (hopefully), and before I get to new chapters, I have to go through and edit the previously posted ones...its been 4 whole years! Sit tight, hopefully there will be new material in the foreseeable future.

* * *

**Prelude to Disaster**

_The Disaster._

She watched in agony as he lowered his eyes from her stricken gaze. His face shared the taut expression of a newly strung harp, but harbored none of the same joy. His folded hands were propped up on the kitchen table, hiding his jaw, but she was sure his usual smile was compressed into a thin line of anger.

The tension in the room grew, threatening to strangle its two occupants. Hermione was sure the silence was suffocating her, because she couldn't breathe.

Unexpectedly, he looked up from his folded hands and flashed that skin-tingling smile at her. Hermione was sure she visibly shivered.

"It's understandable, really-" was all he could manage before Hermione released the breath she had unknowingly been holding since his reaction had frozen her lungs and rushed to speak:

"No, it really isn't, I'm awful, I don't think you understand what I'm saying-"

"Believe me," he interjected bitterly, "I'm pretty sure I do."

The temperature of his voice was in stark contrast with his mega-watt smile. Hermione's tongue could no longer move; at first she thought it was from pure dismay, but then she realized he must have silently jinxed her to keep her from interrupting.

"I _understand_ why this looked like an easy option for you, and now that you've gotten what you want, I hope that you _understand_ that I'm out."

Hermione shrunk farther into his seat. She had known this would not be an easy topic to broach but the pure calm carelessness he spoke with turned her very marrow to ice.

"I'd rather we remain out of contact from now on. I'm sure you _understand _why." The smile sourly turned into a sneer as he pushed back his chair and rose.

She watched his back as he strode with swagger towards the door. Before he exited, apparently for the last time, he hesitated and turned his head back to her. All traces of haughty anger and bitterness were gone, replaced by sheer sadness and disappointment. It took this last locked gaze to finally shatter her heart.

"I hope that you've realized that despite my consent and expertise for creating illusions, I was the only one fooled here."

He shook his head and turned, allowing the door to softly swing shut after him.

There was a new stillness, a new tension that pervaded the newly vacant kitchen. Hermione, eyes wide, continued to stare at the closed door, trying to visualize him as he stood there professing what she would never have believed otherwise. There had been signs, surely, but this had simply begun as a ploy, a device to trigger jealousy-

He wasn't coming back. That was the only thing she knew for certain, despite his words. She couldn't begin to fathom it; he had become such a constant in her life for so long now, it was impossible to imagine how she could happily live otherwise-

In newly administered shock, she realized the truth that had been creeping at the corners of her consciousness since this hoax began. Her mistake, her sheer ignorance slapped her in the face harsher than any of his words could.

And although he claimed to be the only victim of the circumstances, she realized that she had irrevocably made herself the true fool.

Gradually, Hermione lowered her head into her arms on the table and cried.


	2. Extraordinary People

**Prelude to Disaster:** Chapter 1

_The Prelude_

Clean was a very good way to describe the apartment. White walls, cream couches, forest green carpets. Hermione sat on the far end of the room, in the designated "office" area, consisting of a plain wooden desk that housed a desktop computer.

There was very little decoration in the apartment. On a plain wooden end table next to the couch, sat a simple wooden lamp with a lampshade that matched the couch. No pictures hung on the walls or sat in frames. The living room was large and open, with a hallway leading to the bathroom and bedroom, and an open doorway for the smaller kitchen.

There were even less signs of life in the kitchen; the cabinets and icebox held little food, and all counter space was bare of appliances.

It was the kind of home they showed in real estate pictures; clean and empty. It appeared that a normal, if slightly bland and boring, Muggle couple lived there. And considering the inhabitants, it was quite a surprise.

Hermione Granger drummed her fingers in irritation on the wooden desk. Her carefully manicured nails reverberated around the clean white walls of the living room. Her eyes were focused directly across the room, to where the sliding glass door opened up onto a generous balcony overlooking the busy streets of London.

The door stood ajar, allowing the repetitive sound to waft to the other standing just outside.

The balcony "railing" was in fact more of a chest-high cement wall, as if the depth and height of the concrete could dissuade any intentions of jumping. Ron Weasley sat on top of the wall, propped against the apartment siding. He let his leg dangle from their 12th story height while watching the London traffic make little progress along the crowded street.

He took a deep drag from his cigarette and lackadaisically blew the resulting smoke into the whipping city wind. The agitation Hermione had for his recently acquired habit was evident, yet he could find no good reason to give it up. The slow in and exhalation of the smoke to and from his lungs was a calm he had never before experienced. It used to be that Hermione could lull him into tranquility at whim, but nowadays he found comfort only in his hazardous routines.

The drumming had pricked his ears since she began, yet he tried to let the distant honks and angry yells of the traveling London Muggles fill his ears instead. He could have easily cast several charms to silence the street or Hermione's incessant rapping, but Ron no longer liked to use magic to solve everyday problems for his own lazy convenience.

The war had been a trying experience, and for the past several years that there had been peace, Ron had been drifting farther and farther from the magical community and from his past heroic identity. He scorned the Daily Prophet, had his mail delivered by post, and would consent to frequenting the dirtiest Muggle pub before setting foot in the Leaky Cauldron. Ron shied away from the fame he would have killed for during his school years, and was a rare sight for not only his die-hard fans, but his closest friends.

But it had not always been this way. The first year after the defeat at Hogwarts had been a blurry whirlwind of partying and celebration for both Ron and the remainder of the magical world. There was rarely sleep, music blared from every doorway, and there was always ample booze. After spending nearly a year in a constant state of inebriation, Ron knew that he and Hermione had begun dating, but he was not sure when nor how. She had never partied as long nor as hard as he and nearly everyone else had; perhaps she recalled the exact circumstances of their relationship's inception. He shrugged at the memory; back then he had never thought it needed to be brought up, and nowadays he didn't care to do so.

After about a year of reckless abandon, everyone began to drift back to work and to normal lives. It seemed like a flawless transition for everyone but Ron. It wasn't like he hadn't tried. He and Hermione bought an apartment, and while she got a job and carried on with her life, Ron couldn't. He either sat home and drank or went out and drank. His thoughts and memories consumed him. He was unable to stop wallowing in the past; there wasn't a magic potion or spell to make things right within his mind.

Although Ron was experiencing depression only veterans of great and terrible tragedies can be wholly devoted to, Hermione was blossoming in the post-Voldemort wizarding world. The lack of Muggle-born prejudice left a bounce in her step and warmth in her heart that was only furthered by her prominent position as the British ambassador to the International Confederation of Wizards. The Ministry, after failing in their attempts to entice the male counterparts of the Golden-world saving-Trio to take various influential positions amongst their ranks, finally succeeded with Hermione's unhesitant cooperation.

The ministry may have whooped in triumph over their acquisition of Hermione Granger into their services, but Harry and Ron were feverishly opposed to her position. She cared little for Harry's reaction because she only had to deal with his less-than-warm reception during family gatherings at the Burrow, but Ron she had to bear every time she walked in the door.

It was as if even forgetting to hide her Ministry-brand nametag caused him to flinch in disgust whenever she arrived home after a long day of work. Whether she had negotiated a peace treaty or failed to do so, she could never express her happiness nor vent her frustrations from a day of work in the presence of her significant other. It was rare that they talked much at all anymore, unless it was to fight.

Sometimes, like now as Hermione deliberately continued her rapping on the desktop, she would pick a fight just to hear his voice or see his anger blaze into a passion she saw rarely. Even an angry spark of life from him could make her heart race as it used to in their school days. As much as she would not like to admit it, the most passionate and loving he could ever be to her was when he was utterly trashed.

Although Ron was unsure about how their relationship blossomed after their one moment of intimacy during the Hogwarts battle, Hermione was completely positive; and she would never tell Ron. If she told him the truth, he might feel justified to walk out of their apartment's door and her life. Because the truth was…they had never officially started dating. After so many nights together and the history they shared, Ron was drunk enough and Hermione clever enough to take advantage of the situation; to merely remind Ron that he had asked her to be his girlfriend…which had never occurred. He had never questioned her story and here they were, several years later, miserable with themselves (at least in Ron's case) and with each other.

The sliding glass door slammed into place and Hermione was jerked from her reverie. Ron, cigarette still lit in his dropped hand, turned and walked past her without a glance into the side kitchen. Hermione was dumbstruck that he had brought the cigarette into the house, with smoke still trailing from the lit end, let alone that he had not spared her a glance or word as of yet today. She put up with his disgusting habit, probably exposing herself to enough secondhand smoke to make her as cancer-prone as he, but she had also made it awfully clear that she would not accept it in the apartment. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and flicked it in the direction of the cigarette. The end fizzed out.

Ron fiddled around in the kitchen, moving lethargically as usual. He was using one hand to open the mostly empty cabinets and drawers, ignoring his other. Hermione furiously glared at his back, waiting for him to notice and the fight to ensue.

To try and grab a large box of cereal from a higher shelf, Ron needed one hand to reach and another to make sure it did not fall onto his head. A simple summoning charm would have sufficed, but he was now as anti-magical as he could be without being a Muggle. He placed the cigarette in his mouth to get it out of the way and tried to simultaneously take a puff; his mouth was then full of soot rather than smoke. He choked, turned around to see Hermione's bemused expression, and immediately knew her little trick. He took the few steps that separated the kitchen and the area where the desk sat, and coughed up the ash onto the desk in front of her.

Hermione jumped up to avoid his dusty attack and used the desk as a barrier between herself and Ron. His palms were flat against the surface of the desk, and he breathed heavily, trying to rid the taste from his mouth. He slowly looked up at her, his typically glazed over eyes hinting at the fury rising from within. Hermione felt her heart involuntarily skip a beat.

"I've asked you not to smoke in the house," Hermione reminded calmly, as if he hadn't just tried to spit cigarette ash on her.

"I must've forgotten," Ron muttered darkly, his hands gripping the edge of the desk now, knuckles during white. Hermione's stomach did a somersault in a much more nervous manner as she observed.

"There's a lot you seem to _forget_, Ronald," Hermione said coldly. She tried to rally more strength in her voice than she felt.

"What are you talking about?" he asked harshly.

"I asked you to pick up groceries yesterday. We have no food, but that doesn't seem to matter as long as there's a generous amount of alcohol for you. That is the only thing I noticed you bought."

Ron grunted.

"What do you want me to do? I'm the only one here with a job, I'm the only one who cooks and cleans, mostly after you, and I'm the only one who even tries to make this relationship work."

Ron snorted and relaxed from hovering over the desk.

"Yeah, you do so much with the help of your wand," he sneered. Any anxiety Hermione had previously just felt immediately dissipated into anger and frustration.

"You honestly don't understand how hard this is, do you? To come home every day to a boyfriend and best friend who won't even look at me until I've changed out of my work clothes so he won't be reminded of the Ministry or of the magical community entirely. Even then, you don't talk to me, don't treat me as if we've been dating for years and living together, as if we hadn't been friends for years before that. You drink, you smoke, you hide from your friends and family. What can I do?" Hermione pleaded.

"Put it away," Ron said, his attention now focused on her wand that had remained on the desk. Hermione froze.

"That's all you can think about. After all I said? You say that you don't want to think about the past or magic or anything, but it's all you talk or think about. Are you still with me, and I must be the biggest reminder of all, just to keep holding on to that past? Should I just leave?"

She immediately regretted her choice of words, knowing he very well could say just that.

"Just put it away." Ron closed his eyes and turned away from her. Just like that, the fire had left his eyes and all that was left was a sad drunk ready to fix himself another drink. Hermione wasn't quite ready to leave it at that.

"Whatever are you talking about," Hermione taunted and waved her wand in a teasing manner at his back. He couldn't hear her, or chose not to. She levitated the lamp in the living room and sent it floating slowly towards Ron.

What he may have lacked currently in magical talent, he made up for physically when he leapt over the desk, pushed away the chair and had her wand arm pinned to the wall with his hand, the rest of her body crushed between his and the wall. The lamp immediately fell from the magical hold on it and shattered on the tile floor. Ron didn't flinch as his blazing eyes locked onto Hermione's.

"Just drop it." Ron squeezed the wrist the held her wand and Hermione thought it would pop from the pressure. She struggled against him, trying to free herself.

"Ron, what are you afraid of? Scared of a little magic?" Hermione knew she was pushing it. Maybe somewhere she knew she had to have a legitimate reason to leave, she couldn't abandon him without a real threat-

The threat became all too real as Ron simultaneously increased the hold on her wrist and brought his other hand up to her neck. Pushing his thumb onto her windpipe, his blue eyes looked manic, like a caged animal. Hermione's opened in terrified surprise and she had the terrible thought that even if she dropped her wand, he would not let go.

Her fingers were able to twist enough to point her wand in Ron's direction and feebly whimper: "Petrificus totalus."

Immediately, Ron's limbs snapped together, he fell onto the feeble desk, it fell with him, and Hermione was released from his weight and grip. She dropped against the wall in relief, her own hands at her neck to feel it for injury. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she knew she would be bruised. Her eyes narrowed in anger and she shakily rose in determination.

His crazed eyes were moving frantically as the rest of his body was immobilized in the debris, but Hermione knew he could still hear her. She stood above him, eyeing up the damage and ascertaining that he had not been a victim of any unfortunate splinters during the fall. How lucky. She continued to look curiously at the man she had sacrificed so much of her life for. Had he really sacrificed anything for her?

"I'm leaving." Hermione told him, and his free eyes snapped to her face. "I'll call someone to free you. But I just can't do this. Let me know if you want to change."

Hermione carefully stepped over the shattered wood, pushed away the displaced chair and made her way to the door. She could easily summon her belongings, but realized she had spent as little time as she could at home, and most of her important things were in her office at work. With that destination in mind, she turned on the spot and vanished, leaving Ron on the floor.


	3. Unnatural Disaster

**AN: **Well I've actually been interested and working on this story, I hope those who read it want to review because I won't know otherwise if its any good Just so we're all clear…this is the prologue. To the Prelude. To disaster. Yeah, that.

**Prelude to Disaster**

_The Disaster. _

She was concerned. The tension in the room had been threatening to suffocate its two occupants, but as sudden and unexpected as a ray of sunshine during the perfect storm, he looked up from his folded hands and flashed that skin-tingling smile at her. Hermione was sure she visibly shivered.

"It's understandable, really-" was all he could manage before Hermione released the breath she had unknowingly been holding since his smile had frozen her lungs and rushed to speak:

"No, it really isn't, I'm awful, I don't think you understand what I'm saying-"

"Believe me," he interjected bitterly, "I'm pretty sure I do." The temperature of his voice was in stark contrast with his mega-watt smile. Hermione's tongue could no longer move; at first she thought it was from pure dismay, but then she realized he must have silently jinxed her to keep her from interrupting.

"I _understand_ why this looked like an easy option for you, and now that you've gotten what you want, I hope that you _understand_ that I'm out." Hermione shrunk farther into his seat. She had known this would not be an easy topic to broach but the pure calm carelessness he spoke with turned her very marrow to ice. "I'd rather we remain out of contact from now on. I'm sure you _understand _why." The smile sourly turned into a sneer as he pushed back his chair and rose.

She watched his back as he strode with swagger towards the door. Before he exited, apparently for the last time, he hesitated and turned his head back to her. All traces of haughty anger and bitterness were gone, replaced by sheer sadness and disappointment. It took this last locked gaze to finally shatter her heart.

"I hope that you've realized that as false as this may have been to you, it was my only reality." And with that, the door's lock clicked in place softly behind him.

Hermione, eyes wide, continued to focus her gaze upon the unrelenting metal door, trying to visualize him as he stood there professing what she would never have believed otherwise. There had been signs, surely, but this had simply begun as a ploy, a device to trigger jealousy-

He wasn't coming back. That was certain. She couldn't fathom it; he had been an adornment in her life for so long now, it was impossible to imagine it otherwise.

Calmly, Hermione lowered her head into her arms on the table and cried.


	4. Superminiscule Black Hole

**AN: **Well, all I can say is after a few months away from a story I get better ideas…? Still, sorry that it took three of them for me to stop procrastinating. Hope you can brush the spider-webs off of the link to this story and still appreciate it? I'm feeling rhetorical today. This chapter is simply transitional, but I'm trying to make sure its a 2 4 1 deal today and you get chapters 2 and 3! Gotta get crackin.

**Prelude to Disaster:** Chapter 2

Hermione fumbled in the dark for a few moments once she had Apparated into her office before remembering that her wand was still in her hand. She flicked it to turn on the light switch that was oh-so-conveniently located across the room from the door.

Her office had undergone some renovation since she was first hired as the ICW Ambassador. Initially it had begun as the bare-bones minimum requirement for what she needed the little time she spent in her office; her rather expansive and ornate desk that had enough drawers and compartments to house the entire department's paperwork. As Ron's drinking and degradation increased, she began to subconsciously move a majority of her things into the office. Across from the desk was the couch she had brought from her childhood home to her apartment, and then to its final destination where it worked mostly as a bed for the nights she couldn't bear to return home, or after a long several days of work when she couldn't stand long enough to Apparate.

Opposite where she stood was the charmed fireplace that had been a birthday present from Arthur Weasley; after it had gone through serious inspection by the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, of course. At least that had been what Arthur had said, yet Hermione suspected it had never once been set inside of the ministry and had merely been tinkered with in Arthur's shed. She smiled at the rosy warmth that filled her office, then the blue hue, then the green. The kaleidoscope of colors that the fireplace provided in a continuous cycle was soothing and a great place to lose her mind in. She began to get lost in the colors now, but thoughts of Ron's parents filtered into her otherwise blank thoughts.

There was no way Ron would tell them she had left—he never even contacted his parents without Hermione's consistent nagging or Hermione simply taking it upon herself. She was responsible for sobering him up for the Sunday brunch buffet, which she had not been planning on attending after the events of the night. Without her prodding, it was inevitable that Ron would not show either, and Hermione did not wish Mrs. Weasley to have a panic attack at both of their absences.

Hermione glanced at the interactive wall calendar situated to the right of her desk. It was Wednesday, plenty of time to visit the Weasleys, explain the circumstances, grovel for their acceptance in light of the aforementioned circumstances…and get someone to undo the jinx she had placed on Ron. She closed her eyes and sighed. It had been about twenty minutes since; no permanent damage would be done but he probably was experiencing a panic attack of some sort. Maybe he would just work himself up enough to pass out. Then he could be un-jinxed, set on the living room couch and wake up just like every other day; thinking he had passed out after a night of drinking.

Hermione grimaced at the thought. The severity of her actions had not yet hit her, and the adrenaline she had been running on during the physical aspect of the fight was reminiscent of how she had survived during the war. Never letting the reality of events and situations dawn on her, she lived from one fight to another and as long as she, Ron, and Harry were alive she was content. Other soldiers and veterans revered her apparent strength in the face of adversity and her rock-solid constitution, but the fact is that Hermione had never tapped into the small black tumor that stayed hidden underneath all of her facts and theories, childhood memories and thoughts of her job.

It was a black hole in her cerebral cortex of all of the memories from the war, images that had branded themselves past her retinas into every reach of her mind. It had taken every ounce of her strength to wrap them all around themselves until they were so tightly intertwined that it would take the finest needle to pick the strands apart. And if one was pulled, the entire thing would fall apart, and Hermione was not sure if she now had the strength to be repetitively smacked in the face by the memories she had stored away without ever fully understanding or believing. Thoughts of the blackness were always skirting on the edges of her thoughts; she knew that one day it would all come apart and she prayed that it would not completely destroy her when it did. She had seen what the memories had done to Ron, what the acceptance had created. Hermione refused to become like him, refused to lose all sense of herself because of sights and sounds she could not have avoided witnessing-

The fire blazed neon green with a pop and Hermione was snapped free. She had been close to the edge, closer than she had ever been since the actual events took place. She shook her head and the threads of memory tightly closed themselves once more into that ball in the very back of her mind. Her reverie had taken mere seconds but she felt exhausted. It was only seven o'clock PM when she looked at the clock, but the events of the past hour left her nearly unable to stand. She let her legs fall from under her onto the couch, lazily flicked her wand to let her comforter cover her, and promptly fell asleep.


	5. I Didn't Steal Your Girlfriend

**AN:** I hope this creative juice keeps flowing…even though I know I'm only writing to procrastinate from my research paper. I know there's a lot of set-up to the story but I hate rushing. Longest chapter yet and hopefully I'll get some nice feedback to encourage me to continue

**Prelude to Disaster:** Chapter 3

Hermione grunted and rolled over in her sleep…unconsciously forgetting that she was not in her spacious bed and rolled right off onto the floor. As soon as she was falling Hermione awoke, just in time to hit the floor and groan. It hadn't been a long drop, just enough to shock her from her sleep. She was not disconcerted at her surroundings, since she had spent enough nights on her office couch. However when she sat up, rubbing her face where she had landed flat out on the stiff carpet, she couldn't recall what she had been working on so intensely the night before that had required her to spend the night in her office—

Oh, yes. Hermione laid her arms on the seat of the couch and rested her head there for a few moments. It wasn't unusual that she would forget about her problems at home or with Ron when she spent the night at work. It was just that now she realized she would not be Apparating home later that day. She peeked from under her arm at the clock. 10 AM. So Ron had been lying petrified on the floor of their apartment in the debris of the broken desk for about 16 hours. She would've giggled if she wasn't suddenly struck with how the Weasley family would regard her if they knew in what state she had left Ron.

The guilt of her irresponsibility shot through her and she jumped up from the floor, turned in place and Apparated to her apartment.

* * *

Hermione nearly stumbled over her low coffee table in the darkness that met her when she arrived to the center of her living room. Although it should have been a bright Thursday morning, the blinds were shut and the curtains tightly drawn across the double glass doors that led to the balcony. Hermione quickly lighted the tip of her wand and peered around. The desk was completely intact, and Ron was no where to be found. He would not have been able to release the jinx, nor would he even have considered using magic to free himself. Not only that, but the mess being cleared up…?

Her breath caught in her throat as that old feeling settled over her, the survival instincts that had let her last so long in the war. Everything became quieter as her ears strained, her breathing simultaneously quickened and grew silent, and she grew intensely aware of her surroundings. She could feel her veins thicken as adrenaline began pumping and her fight or flight mechanism was cranked into overdrive. She began to move lithely across the floor, dimming her wand because she had now adjusted to the darkness. She turned into the hallway that held their bedroom and bathroom. Bypassing the closed lavatory, Hermione paused outside of the closed bedroom door. She held her breath as she turned the brass knob and silently pushed the door a fraction of an inch forward.

Ron was sprawled on top of the covers, snoring softly. He was in the same clothes she had last seen him in, faded blue jeans and a loose black tee shirt. His toes hung slightly over the edge of the bed, and Hermione would have laughed at the bewildered look he wore while sleeping if the circumstances had been different. He looked so reminiscent of the Ron she had always known and loved that she was stricken by the thought of never returning to him. She wanted to crawl into bed next to him, have him hold her as she had always imagined. It could be perfect. She would persevere through this, it was only a phase, Ron would wake up, they would be happy—

"Hermione?"

The voice did not come from the sleeping form of Ron, but from behind her and Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin in terror. She turned immediately with her wand brandished, nearly poking Harry Potter in the chest.

"Harry!" Hermione threw her arm down and put her hands on her knees, bending slightly and breathing heavily. She looked past him to see the bathroom door open and light spilling out into the hallway.

"Ah…sorry." Harry scratched the back of his unruly black hair. "Why don't we sit down?"

* * *

"So you must have arrived shortly after I left," Hermione surmised from Harry's explanation of discovering Ron. "I immediately realized when I awoke that he must still have been in that position…thankfully you happened to stop by." She omitted that she had planned on alerting someone to Ron's state, which would have meant admitting that she never had.

"Well it wasn't so much of a happening as it was a plan…" Harry seemed to stumble awkwardly over his words.

They had moved back into the living room, Harry guiding Hermione as her heart rate had still not returned to normal and she was feeling rather weak from the eventful morning. The drapes had been drawn and the blinds pulled up to reveal a brilliant sun warming the London mid-morning. Hermione had curled into a ball on the couch Ron had gotten to replace the one she had brought to her office, this one significantly less comfortable than her own, while Harry had fixed her a cup of strong mint-flavored tea, her favorite.

Her eyes watered with gratitude when he handed the steaming mug to her, it had been far too long since someone had tea made for her, and far too long since Harry had treated her in a friendly manner, let alone made her the tea. She sipped as he explained how he had found and released Ron, who had simply thanked Harry stiffly when he saw the wand in his hand, grabbed a bottle of liquor and disappeared into the bedroom. But Harry had stayed, to clean up the mess that had been left in Hermione's wake and to keep an eye on Ron, making sure he didn't drown in his bottle.

"Don't mistake my question, I am so grateful you were here to watch after him, but why did you stop by, without any notice?" Hermione reverted to the present moment. "Maybe this mess could have been avoided and we all could have had supper together—"

"Don't be ridiculous, that probably would have been more of a catalyst for this disaster than anything he could have done—"

"Oh, funny you should mention that—"

"Actually, its better that he wasn't really 'with it'; I had some rather unpleasant news—"

"And I've told him time after time that I would put up with that damn habit of his unless he brought it into the house—"

"I sincerely doubt there is any bloke that would appreciate his mate telling him he knocked up the bloke's sister—"

Hermione stopped in her rant and stared at Harry with wide eyes.

"What did you say?"

Harry looked immediately the most uncomfortable he had all morning. His eyes seemed to sink in behind his glasses as if he was afraid of the possible rage that might be induced within Hermione. He swallowed with difficulty and searched for the right works with an open mouth.

"Well—uhm…it seems that, ah, Ginny's…pregnant?" Harry shrank further back into his seat. Hermione's face was curiously blank, betraying no evidence of her thoughts.

"So you two are unmarried…she's pregnant…and you've been here instead of with her?" Hermione's tone was even, but her eyes were beginning to burn. Harry had been afraid of this and sighed.

"Well unfortunately, I was thrown out last evening; it wasn't as if I had much of a choice." Harry's face twisted with frustration. Hermione's features immediately softened and her eyes cooled. She placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry. You know that she'll come around—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. She needs her space. I figured I'd hear that a lot. It just came as such a shock and then being bloody screamed at for it being entirely my fault for nearly two hours before she kicks me out? I really didn't know where to go, I could not have faced any of the other Weasleys without too many questions being asked or me spilling it before Ginny was ready…I wasn't even sure I'd be welcome here." Harry had been staring at the ground while he spoke and his hands had tightened into fists on his knees. Hermione grasped one of his fists with both of his hands and he lifted his gaze to her eyes, alight with a fire of a different sort now.

"Harry, I know you don't necessarily agree with everything I do. I know you've treated me with cold civility for a long time now—it's been such a silly distance between us for far too long. However, I don't know how much clearer I can make this. I will always love you; you will always be my best friend. We share a bond like no other, and no stupid differences in points of view can keep us apart for long, obviously. I know Ron feels the same," she added, as if in afterthought. Harry smiled sadly at her words.

"I'm sorry I let my grudge for the Ministry cloud our friendship. I know I can't make up that lost time, but I can't even tell you how much of a relief it is to have told you this…to be talking to you at all actually." Harry smiled widely now, and clasped Hermione in a tight hug. She smiled with just as much happiness, and returned the hug with fervor. How she had missed this, this closeness she hadn't felt with anyone, let alone Harry. It would have been complete if Ron had been there.

With that thought Hermione pulled away slowly from the hug, feeling melancholy once more. She knew that while Harry was distraught now, he and Ginny would marry and start a little red and black haired clan of children. And be utterly happy.

"I wanted little red-haired children," Hermione muttered bitterly. Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

"What?"

Hermione sighed and pushed her bangs back, leaving her hand in front of her eyes to hide the pain there.

"I just…I guess now I'm realizing that I'll never get that future I've wanted since I was a little girl. Having little red-haired children, being apart of the Weasley clan. Going to all the weddings and gatherings, just having that full family feeling. Now I guess they won't even want to associate with me." Hermione laughed without humor and leaned against the back of the couch. "Not after I left their son petrified on the floor when he's so deathly adverse to magic to begin with." Harry tried to be comforting.

"You two have had falling-outs before, if you just apologize and talk it out, I know it'll work out—" Hermione snorted.

"You really haven't the foggiest idea. You saw him maybe once a week, and that was only made possible through me magically hiding the liquor and physically dressing the man. The fights that ensued from these preparations each week were draining. It's been like this…for years." Hermione slumped forward and put her head in her hands. "I shouldn't be dealing with this anymore. I should never have been dealing with this for as long as I have. I just keep hoping that he'll come around. That it'll change. That I'll finally…be happy." She said the last and tears began to trickle down her face. Harry reached out and enclosed her once more in a hug.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. No one ever knew what was actually going on in here…we all assumed…I've got it. You can stay with Ginny, I'm sure she'll need someone to vent to about all of my faults and how I got her into this mess…And I'll stay with Ron. I can do my best to straighten him out…with no promises." He adopted a dry tone and pulled away from Hermione for a moment. He wiped one of the trails of tears that extending from her eyes and was threatening to fall from her chin. "I haven't been a good friend to you nor Ron and—"

"Yeah, you're being a bloody good friend right now, mate."

Both Harry and Hermione snapped their heads up at the sound of a new voice. Ron was leaning against the opening to the hallway with his arms crossed, conveniently out of immediate sight from where they had sat on the couch and armchair. Hermione realized Harry still had one hand on her waist and another frozen next to her face from when he had wiped away her tear. She quickly shook him off to try and save the image from being misunderstood, but the damage had already taken its toll. Harry also tried to deflect his suspicion.

"Ron, you can't possibly believe—"

"And why shouldn't I? She's never home, I never know where she is, and next thing I know I'm petrified on the floor and you're by my side? What, did she Apparate right into your lap? Cry to you about me? Is that where she always is?" He sneered and pushed off of the doorway uneasily, clearly still unstable. He staggered over to the armchair where Harry sat and braced his hands on the back of it. Harry looked calmly at Hermione.

"This has been a long time coming. Go to my house, explain to Ginny the various situations, if you get a word in edgewise. I'll owl when this is over. Don't expect it to come soon…I can see this will take a while," He grimaced and motioned with his eyes to Ron's figure standing above him. Hermione nodded and stood up quickly. Ron was not so oblivious to their exchange.

"Oh, you're going to go wait for him _at home_? Good riddance, maybe this time I won't have to get paralyzed to get you to leave."

She flinched from the apathy in his voice and began to turn in place, but not before she saw Harry slip his wand from his pocket and say, "I wouldn't be so sure of that."


	6. Wait A Few Minutes

**AN:** Moving slowly but surely…we'll see how long this takes me. Christmas break is coming up so I'll have ample free time. If I hadn't stated it before, this is in the "Fred is alive and well" universe. Which is a much better universe than the one we're in if you don't mind my saying so.

**Prelude to Disaster: **Chapter 4

"And he said he'd owl when?"

Hermione was laid out on yet another couch, this time belonging to Harry Potter and Ginerva Weasley's sitting room. It had more cushion and comfort than Ron's, but still fell short of her own couch's quality. Perhaps she would forever have a couch bias.

Ginny was pacing the floor rapidly in front of Hermione, not taking more than six strides before whipping around for another pass. If Hermione had felt the urge to peer over the side of the couch, she was sure that the area where Ginny was taking what seemed to be her six-hundredth lap would be gradually depressing further than the remainder of the hardwood floor. However, the events of the day had left Hermione unable, or at least unwilling, to move a single muscle let alone shift her entire head.

At the pop of her Apparation into the cottage, Ginny had nearly taken her head off with a spell, assuming that Harry was back and he was not yet off of her hit list. She had then made Hermione recount the entire events of the past twenty-four hours, which were difficult enough to have told once. Ginny was sympathetic, but once Harry entered the story her entire demeanor changed. She would have kept up her impressive rant about his irresponsibility and faults if Hermione had not concluded the tale where it stood, with Harry and Ron apparently locked in an epic battle. Ginny had grown quiet, and this is where the pacing began. Six hours later, this is where they still were.

"Yes, he said not to expect it too soon. Do you realize how long it will take Ron to accept that he misunderstood the situation? Actually, scratch that; if we're waiting for the git to admit he was wrong, we may as well be dead." Hermione replied dryly to the inquiry Ginny had been making at twenty minute intervals for the past five hours.

"He said not too soon, but six hours later is a bit long, don't you think? Even for my hard-headed brother," As angry as Ginny was over the discovery of her pregnancy, she would be angrier still if Harry managed to incapacitate himself in any way before she could do it herself. "They've been best mates for so bloody long, shouldn't that count for something?"

"You'd think. It should also be obvious to everyone but Ron that Harry and I have also been friends for so bloody long that sharing a hug when I'm crying is more than acceptable. It's practically mandatory." Hermione threw a pillow over her face. This waiting game was taking its toll on both of them.

Of course they cared if Ron was injured, but it was more likely that Harry would keep a cool head during this fight. Ron was in a nearly constant state of inebriation, unpredictable, and obviously unhinged if he thought that Harry and Hermione had amorous feelings for one another. Although Harry had the wand on his side, they could not be sure to what lengths Ron would take to exact his twisted justice.

At that very moment there was a rap on the window. A tawny owl was sitting placidly on the window sill, and was nearly thrown from it with the force Ginny used to open the window. Miffed, the owl stuck its leg with the letter out, and turned its head defiantly in the opposite direction. Ginny tore the letter off and ripped open the envelope. Clicking its beak in annoyance, the owl took flight into the dim light of evening. Ginny read aloud:

"_Ginny & Hermione,_

_Don't worry, we're both fine. The fighting didn't last long since I could quickly subdue him using my wand. Most of our time was spent talking. It took a bit for him to open up, but once he did I'm pretty sure we made a breakthrough. It'll take a long time, but I think we'll eventually get Ron back. For now, though, he's going to be staying at the Burrow. At the moment I've posted up with Fred and George in their apartment above the joke shop, I don't want to tread where I may still be unwelcome. _

_All my love, Harry_."

Ginny finished and stared blankly at the letter.

"He's staying with Fred and George?! The bloody fool, he's being a right git! I've been worried sick all day, and he goes to stay with some more of my brothers? Half the bloody family is going to know before I've been pregnant a full day—"

Hermione mulled over Harry's words. Ron spoke to him at length? A breakthrough? After years, he could hardly look at Hermione, and yet he spilled his heart to Harry? How was there any justice in that? Anger filled her as she thought back to all of the cold nights spent in their bed because Ron refused to be intimate. All of the silent meals where she had tried and failed to engage him in conversation, all of the emptiness she saw in his blank blue eyes. The emptiness she had tried to fill. And apparently had failed in that attempt as well. She closed her eyes to block the onset of tears that was threatening behind her lids.

"…And we're heading over there first thing in the morning, show him a wake up call! He hasn't seen the last of me, if he thinks he can keep avoiding me until this baby is born he is a right fool, just wait until Bill and Charlie get a load of his horseshi—"

She and Ginny were in separate worlds. Ginny would yell and terrorize and rant and throw things at Harry, but at the end of the day his presence would pacify all of her trivial qualms. They were truly in love, and Hermione was happy for their happiness. She, however, would never have the same experience. Hermione had loved in vain for so long, trying so hard without any reciprocation, that she had never been a recipient of love. Of passion, of jealousy, of lust? She was well-schooled in receiving those emotions. True love had never crossed her path and as long as she was yearning for Ron to show that to her she would be unsatisfied. He was not uncapable of love; underneath his decadent exterior he loved Harry, his family, the Chudley Cannons, and she knew he loved her. But not the way she deserved to be loved. Not the way she had loved him since he gazed at her in wonder and admiration when she punched Draco Malfoy square in the nose during their school days. Not the fairy tale love. Not the growing old in rocking chairs together love. Not the love she wanted.

Maybe Ron would change. Maybe it was still impossible. As his friend, she hoped he would. As his _ex_ -lover, she hoped that he would regret the years of depressed introversion that had caused him the best thing that ever happened to him.


	7. Happiness Is A Warm Wand

**AN: **Thank you for the few, the proud, the reviewers. It seriously brightens my day to see and read them, they're such an ego boost. So if you could, drop me a line, especially if you're enjoying this. I know it may seem like I'm going off topic in these chapters and focusing more on other relationships, but I swear it is not just useless rambling! I am going somewhere with all of this...bear with me, I actually have been working on this so I shouldn't be leaving it cold turkey. Thank you, I hope you like the newest chapter.

**Prelude to Disaster:** Chapter 5

Hermione wondered whether she'd have to make it official. Actually face Ron and tell him she never wanted to love him again. Even though she doubted it would impact him, it knotted her stomach to think about. How could she look him in the eye after all this time, especially if he was unperturbed by the news? That would be the worst possible scenario. To have him look at her blankly, and possibly with pity as she "dumped" him…when in fact he had dumped her from his heart as easily as he threw an apple core away. Eating her right to the center and then carelessly disposing of her, that sounded like a suitably horrible and accurate scenario.

It was almost hard to believe she had left him this time around; the final time. But then, was she really the one with the power? Was it more pathetic that she had been around so long and let him come back to her so many times, or that when she had left, she always returned? The swirling thoughts muddled her thoughts like a snowstorm, neither hardening nor softening her resolve to end her relationship.

She and Ginny rounded the corner in Diagon Alley that gave them a straight path directly leading to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the most flamboyant shop in the entire district, today decorated by an array of colorful fireworks set to explode every thirty seconds.

It was a chillier day than London had been experiencing lately, but Hermione knew she could count on the weather being due to a cold front moving in, not Dementors. The wind whipped through the alleyway as the girls hurried to the vibrant shop entrance.

A loud squawking accompanied the opening of the door. Serving the purpose of the bell, a parrot the size of a Great Dane was perched upon a ledge next to the entrance. It's green beak drooped to between its orange toes and its' head settled back into its chest, napping until the next customer arrived. For a Friday morning, it was nearly deserted; a majority of the WWW consumers were as late of risers as the owners. Even without the usual horde of clientele, there was still barely enough room to move without brushing against the next top-of-the-line laughing cauldron or edible wand.

"What a complete and utter surprise!" A lanky, red-headed Weasley twin rounded a tall display case and approached the pair. Hermione immediately reddened in embarrassment; she couldn't tell which one it was!

"Where is he?" Ginny practically spat in vehemence at her brother, who flinched back from her ferocious demeanor.

"Now, now, dearest and youngest sibling; I hardly think you'd find it appropriate to take a stroll to the rear of the building, climb our staircase, and strangle the poor bloke while he was enjoying a peaceful slumber on our couch—" Ginny had already stalked off down an aisle to find the entrance to twins' apartment. "Or maybe you would," He muttered.

"Well, Hermione," Hermione snapped her attention to him at the address that was accompanied by a head tilt and wide grin, "Although I was completely sarcastic to Ginny's presence on this fine morning, I am entirely sincere when I say it is a pleasant shock to see you in our humble institution." Hermione couldn't help but join the brother in smiling.

"Yes, well—actually, I'm sorry..?"

"George," George cut her off with a laugh. "I know its been a lengthy stretch of time, but it wounds me to think that Hermione Granger can no longer distinguish between the infamous Weasley twins, a feat our mother could never even pull off!" George mimed stabbing himself in the heart. "I suppose you haven't spent enough time recently with Molly screaming out our names in exasperation; even if she only gets them right about half the time." He added with a forlorn sigh. Hermione giggled at the memories of a flustered Mrs. Weasley chasing after the mischievous boys; a sight she hadn't seen in years. However, she knew she had to find Ginny and save Harry from severe emasculation. She also wanted to avoid the topic of Ron with any members of the Weasley family before she was ready to discuss it. She said just as much to escape from the friendly Fred-err—George (only the part about rescuing Harry from imminent pain), and turned down the same aisle Ginny had taken.

As Hermione traversed the skewed passageway, she would have been worried about fire hazards the teetering stacks of Real Dragon Firecrackers™, or towering crates of Entirely Too Flammable Fake Hair™, provided had it been a Muggle establishment. Ginny had left an easily followed trail by knocking over said piles of products, some that were sparking or smoking on the checkered linoleum floor. Hermione carefully but quickly picked her way over the debris, finally reaching her destination. It was a room that served as an office, storage space, product testing, and access to the apartment. The door was flung wide open in Ginny's wake, and Hermione made sure to gently close it once she had entered the room. She jogged up the staircase at the right and reached the landing just in time to see Harry, in one piece and sleeping peacefully on the suede green couch—and Ginny launching herself knees first onto his stomach.

"Bloody hell—!" Harry would have fallen off of the couch in alarm had Ginny's weight not stabilized him. Well, maybe not her weight since she was compared as light as a Puffskein more often than not, but the fists she had clutched into his sleeping shirt had enough vigor to keep him in place.

"Harry James Potter, you bloody prick! Leaving your _pregnant_ girlfriend while you fight her bloody deranged brother—"

"Ginny?! What the—Get off of—OW! Stop pinching me!"

"I will pinch you until you're black and blue, Potter, just wait until I'm as big as a hippogriff and then you'll be sorry for knocking me up—"

"But I'm already sorry, I said it before! Especially if you're going to act completely mental the whole bloody time —"

"You think I'm being mad now? How DARE you suggest that; wrong choice of words you arse—didn't even come home last night—"

"You told me to get out of your sight before you blasted my bloody head off! You said you'd rather see me get laid out by the Hogwarts Express than see me again! I was trying _not_ to exacerbate the issue—"

"I still wish you'd take a long fall from a high broom—"

"Then what in bloody hell are you doing here?" Harry sitting up now, leaning on his elbows; their physical struggle had ended. His face had pinkened from the shouting while Ginny's cheeks had flamed to match her hair. Their breathing was irregular and rapid, both of them glaring defiantly at one another. Ginny's fists were still clenched and rested on his chest, no longer pounding on it as she had been doing. Harry's hair was more ruffled than usual, and Ginny's wild curls had escaped her bobby pins. As quickly as her temper had been triggered, Ginny's head bowed and her hair fell in front of her face. Hermione heard a slight sniffle from behind the curtain.

"I missed you," Ginny warbled and burst into tears. Harry immediately flew into action, wrapping his sobbing girlfriend into his arms as he laid them both back on the couch.

Hermione felt that she could start bawling at any second. The fight(?) between the two had been nothing short of confusing as hell. She had observed its entirety with amused anxiety, finding it both hilarious and nerve-wracking because such an exchange with Ron would never have ended so…_cutely_. The yelling would have escalated until a door was slammed or objects were thrown. Issues were never resolved; one of them would eventually get fed up and leave the apartment—Hermione to her office or Ron to a bar. Either way, Ron would get shit-faced and forget the incident entirely; Hermione could recall all of them.

"Makes you want to vomit, doesn't it?" came a familiar voice from behind her. She started and tensed out of habit, but quickly relaxed with recognition. Wiping the welled tears from her eyes, she began to turn.

"Oh, George, you should've seen it—"

"Not George," said the redhead behind her, laugher evident in his tone. After actually seeing the man behind her, Hermione realized her folly. While George had been up and presentable for work, presumably up for a few hours, his twin had obviously just rolled out of bed. The copper hair at the back of his head was sticking straight up and his scruffy face betrayed his lack of shaving. He was wearing pajama bottoms and a white tee shirt—nothing on his bare feet. Hermione groaned.

"That's the second time this morning I've managed to embarrass myself by not recognizing either Weasley twin," she confessed sheepishly.

"Don't fret, love; it most certainly won't be the last," he assured her with a wink and lopsided grin. She scoffed and Fred moved past her to survey the scene before him with a raised eyebrow. "Well, this is one we didn't see coming," he muttered, emulating George's sarcasm. The tearful embrace had turned into a fierce lip-lock that reddened Hermione's cheeks to witness. Fred strolled over to the couple and stood before them with his arms crossed.

"Alright, alright, break it up." When they didn't acknowledge Fred's presence, his arms unfolded and he used two fingers to let out a piercing whistle that had Hermione covering her ears from halfway across the room. The lovebirds jumped at the harsh sound and the glue melding their mouths together evaporated. "That's better," Fred said pleasantly in stark contrast to the melting glower Ginny had thrown in his direction.

"Rude." She hissed at his cheerful disposition.

"Oh, on the contrary dear _virginal_ sister, not nearly rude enough," He said brightly and sat down in between the couple, putting an arm around both. Their faces, once so flushed with anger, then passion, were now devoid of all blood; Ginny had grown deathly pale.

"Now," Fred began, still pleasant, "Unless my ears deceived me, which should be impossible considering the size of Ginny's lungs and my Extendable Ear chain I have connected from my bedroom to this room," Ginny and Harry exchanged nervous glances. "I may have overheard someone shouting something about pregnancy…" Fred's grin grew wider and more lethal; Hermione saw his hand grasping Harry's shoulder tighter than necessary and Harry swallowing hard; neither of the couple affirmed his eavesdropping. "Now see, I don't know how this pregnancy thing could have happened; I mean, if you were alluding to _Ginny_ being pregnant, well, that just wouldn't be possible. Our sister was brought up in a nice, Catholic household. Her parents trusted her enough with her saintly boyfriend to not make stupid, immature, life-ruining—" Fred's grin had turned into a sneer, which had then turned into a deep-set frown. For someone who's calling in life was to make people laugh, his frown was awfully convincing.

"Enough," Ginny said in a shaky voice. Her eyes were downcast and her hands were sat limply in her lap. Hermione could see that she was holding back tears, and Harry's personal discomfort and inability to comfort his girlfriend were only restrained by not wanting to further incite Fred's wrath.

"No," Fred said tauntingly, pushing himself forcefully from the couch, "No, it's not nearly enough. Because try to look past your immature melodrama and see that now you got what you wanted. You wanted to be an adult, got Mum and Dad to treat you like one, and you fucked it all up. Just _wait_ until they get a load of this horseshit, you'll never leave the Burrow again." Tears were now streaming down Ginny's cheeks but she resolutely did not make a noise. Fred rounded on Harry next. "And _you._ Aren't you supposed to be the poster boy for, oh, I don't know, the world? Wait until the Daily Prophet catches wind of this, what great publicity you'll get then—" Hermione saw Harry's hand itching for his wand and knew this would spiral out of control quickly.

"Fred, please." She pleaded as she stepped forward from where she had been frantically monitoring the situation. Fred halted and turned to her with curiosity. Hermione wilted under the scrutiny until Ginny added in,

"Fred…I understand why you're upset. I deserve the ridicule, I know. But I'll be the one to tell Mum and Dad, eventually, and…well, there will be some arrangements made to legitimize this child and my relationship with Harry. Please think better of me, that I will make the best of it and not allow this to be a permanent mistake." Fred was still staring at Hermione. She was intimidated, but refused to break eye contact. Blue met brown, and Hermione watched him process Ginny's words and mull them over momentarily. He tore his gaze from hers and Hermione felt him cave to his sister's pleas.

"Ginny…" He sighed and accepted her into his arms when she rose to embrace him. Harry had sat silently throughout the entire exchange, most likely literally holding his tongue between his teeth, and Hermione could see the vein in his cheek ticking still. Fred released his sister and collapsed into the arm chair, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He rubbed his face and groaned. "What are we going to do with you…". Knowing her brother had been successfully shut down, Ginny perked up.

"Just think about what you would do without me," she said gaily, curling up on the couch once more next to Harry.

"Have less headaches," he mumbled from behind his hands, and Ginny chuckled at the return of his humor. She began to chatter away about how they wouldn't tell the rest of the Weasley family everything, just that they were getting married. The other unpleasant interrogations could come later…

The anxiousness in Hermione's chest had departed with Fred's anger. Another situation was diffused quickly and efficiently within this family. Harry would soon be apart of the family, if Ginny's hints at "legitimizing" their relationships had the same connotations to him as it did to her. Hermione would be left alone, living out of her office most likely and fully devoting herself to her career. Sure, she'd see her own family for holidays, but she no longer belonged in the Muggle world; that door had been shut long ago. She just wasn't used to feeling so out of place in her own world. Her experiences may have been different, but she had never anticipated feeling so out of the loop in relationship-oriented interactions. She had been worried for nothing over Ginny and Harry's tiff, and she should have known Fred could not be that cruel for that long. Without siblings, without a proper relationship…was she missing an essential developmental element for dealing with these types of conflicts?

"…And Hermione will be my maid of honor, won't you?" Hermione looked around uncertainly before staring blankly at Ginny.

"I will?"

"Spendid!" Ginny clapped her hands, mistaking Hermione's inflection of skepticism for affirmation. "It'll have to be in about two months…or even less, I don't want to look like there's a Quaffle under my dress."


	8. Gives Her Hell

**AN: **In case you couldn't tell I'm a very big fan of interjections—especially in conversations. Reviews highly welcomed :)

**Prelude to Disaster:** Chapter 6

"Well, I guess as long as you name the little bastard after me, I won't tell Mum and Dad," Fred sighed heavily with his promise.

"Hell will freeze over before I name my daughter Fred." Ginny said flatly.

"You don't know it's a girl yet—"

"Even if it's not, Fred Potter just doesn't have the same charming ring as Fred Weasley…"

"I guess I don't have to keep your secret, if that's what you'd rather…"

"I AM NOT NAMING MY KID FRED."

"What if," Harry interjected timidly, "we gave it the middle name of Fred—only if it's a boy, of course," he hastily amended as Ginny had opened her mouth once more to interject. She shut it, shot a look at Fred, and then folded her arms.

"Fine." She muttered and fell back against the couch.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, mate," Fred agreed energetically, rubbing his hands together with relish.

The rest of the morning had passed by peacefully, Fred's anger subsiding and gradually turning to excitement as plans for the wedding began to fall into place. There was no way Fred could resist a good party; he tended to be the life of it.

What had began as an expedition to punish and procure Harry had somehow transformed into a wedding planning committee. The four had decided to keep the secret of Ginny's pregnancy between only them, to spare the unnecessary drama from erupting. Harry especially was relieved, because although he had been treated like another son to the Weasleys as long as he had known them, he had a feeling the seven males in the family would not hesitate to pound him within an inch of his life before even using their formidable magic.

Fred's growing anticipation was contagious; Hermione was now looking forward to playing a major role in the marriage between two of her closest friends. She had forgotten about Ron, forgotten that she would sooner-rather-than-later have to inform his family of their relationship, or lack thereof, forgotten everything except the laughter in Fred & George's living room. She should have known it wouldn't last.

* * *

Ginny was going over the bridal party pairings; who would be walking down with who. So far the groomsmen consisted of Fred, George, Percy ("Are you sure you have to invite Percy?" "Stuff it, Fred."), Charlie, Bill, Neville (at Harry's insistence), Hagrid, and Ron, Harry's best man.

Hermione had paled when the list was devised; knowing what was coming and finding no conceivable way to avoid it, she sat in silence while Ginny tried to come up with enough girls to match all of her brothers and Neville.

"Obviously Hermione, Fleur, and Luna…I'm sure Angelina and Katie will be thrilled, as will Parvati, Padma and Lavender…and oh those won't be awkward conversations at all 'Hello, I know we haven't spoken much since battling for our lives together, but would you mind being one of my bridesmaid in my wedding? To who? Oh, to Harry Potter.'" Ginny mimed with her hand as a phone to the amusement of her brother and fiancé.

There was a notepad situated on the table, with a quill hastily scribbling all she iterated. Back to business, Ginny dove into pairings and Hermione tensed.

"Fleur and Bill, Luna and Neville; Angelina and Katie can decide which twin they could stand being around the whole night—or maybe they'll end up switching at some point—not like anyone would notice—did you go to that Yule Ball in your fourth year with Parvati, Harry? In that case she can be paired with Hagrid—I'm not being vengeful!—Padma and Percy has a nice ring to it, Charlie and Lavender; which leaves the…maid of honor and the…best man—" Ginny bit her lip and flushed. She looked at Hermione apologetically and helplessly who could only a tight lipped smile in return.

"Hermione, I'm so sorry—"

"Hermione, don't worry, he doesn't need to be my best man—"

"Don't be ridiculous, he's your best friend, I'll get over it—"

"No, that's not fair to put you through—"

"We'll change tradition; who says that the maid of honor and best man have to walk down the aisle together—"

"Only every rule of wedding probity, honestly, it's not a big deal—"

Fred had been watching this exchange with bewilderment and finally cut in.

"Okay, someone please just reassure me that Hermione isn't pregnant either." Fred's hands were splayed out in a gesture of asking someone to stop, and his face was etched with serious concern; enough to make the other three bust up laughing. "…Obviously, I'm out of the loop. Enlighten me, if you would be so kind."

Hermione sobered, realizing she'd have to confront the issue she'd been so successfully avoiding all day thus far. She hadn't wanted to talk about it; letting it out of her mind made it real and inescapable. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, praying for strength. When she opened them, Fred's electric blue eyes were boring into her own, fixed intensely on whatever she had to say.

"You see," she started shakily and gave a weak smile to fend off the feeling of vomiting, "Ron and I are taking a…break, I guess you could call it. I haven't officially ended it but I plan to. We're no longer compatible—well, we haven't been compatible for most of our sham of a relationship. Just now I see it and don't want to live like that anymore." Hermione finished, and felt strangely empowered by her words. Perhaps this would be easier than she imagined.

And perhaps it felt easier to believe when Fred's face softened with empathy for her, continuing to make eye contact, however; making her his focus of attention. They were the only two people in that plane of existence when he looked at her like that. She felt more confident with her feelings just from his intense gaze, as if he had been transferring his will power to her; it confused her. She broke it by looking down at the floor.

"Hey," he said softly, and reached out to grab her hands with both of his. "I know you, being Ms. Hermione Jane Granger, over-analyzer extraordinaire, would worry about what the family would think if you happened to dump one of their sons," she nodded her head mutely and he squeezed her hands gently, "and you are notorious for putting everyone's happiness above your own." She was still staring resolutely at the floor. Fred bowed his head to her level so that he could murmur softly.

"We were not as ignorant of Ron's behavior as you think, I'm ashamed to admit. Ashamed because we never tried to help him, or intervene in any way. We swept it under the welcome mat to our happy, wonderful family life, hoping that as long as you were still with him, which had to mean things couldn't be that bad. Knowing who you are and what you would sacrifice to keep our family happy, we were purposefully oblivious."

Hermione let tears she had not yet shed for her own sake fall from her eyes to plop onto the hardwood floor below.

"They'll—we'll all have to wake up now. The clock's hand has been settled on "self-destruction" for Ron and been ignored for far too long. Don't be afraid. We will never abandon you; you've been holding our sanity together on too many occasions to recall. If anything, the Weasleys are indebted to you for keeping Ron alive as long as you have. We _are_ your family, and especially in a big family, you can always guarantee someone will like you."

Hermione peeked up at Fred's face and saw his lopsided grin, simply downsized to be appropriate for the context. Ginny and Harry had apparently vacated the area; she was relieved that they had most likely not seen her cry. It was shameful enough for Fred, someone she was rarely acquainted with, to see her at her weakest. But it didn't exactly feel shameful. Maybe because she hardly knew him it was easier to let her emotions off of their tightly wrapped leash.

Whatever the case, she was heartened at the very least to hear that she would not be rejected by the family she had long since considered her own.

"I never took you for an eloquent speaker," Hermione joked weakly. Fred's grin broadened and he released her hands. Hermione was stunned by the warmth he took with him.

"I'm a jack of all trades; there's always another ace up my sleeve," Fred winked and turned to retrieve Ginny and Harry before they desecrated another area of his household (the couch had been deemed "unsanitary" and "biohazardous"). Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but couldn't find any words. She settled for a contented half smile and leaned back in the arm chair.

"If you tell me to 'hold on' one more time, I swear, I'm coming in, and—"

She laughed to herself at Fred's threatening tone. From teasing to cruel to joking to sincere; his many faces were impossible to keep track of. The man had personality, she'd give him that. That's about all she'd give him.

* * *

**AN:** Just wanted to space out the paragraphs a bit, mine can be pretty dense. But yeah, please review, it's the only I'll know if I should continue or not! Thank you to those who have been responding. :]


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